To see the sea
by Thedreamthatcouldbe
Summary: This is an orriginal story based upon the core concept of to the moon. Two different employees from sigmund corp. have come to Dominville, Mo to grant the final wish of a dying man by going through his memories to find what they need to change. Enjoy! (Rated M for one scene!)
1. Prolouge

On a quiet Missouri morning in the peaceful town of Dominville an old man sleeps in a 20'x20' room. He has not awoken in 3 days and many do not believe he ever will. He succumbed to a sudden stroke caused by his onset of liver failure in the past couple months. However before he took deathly ill, he informed the staff of the Kingdom's Dominion Assisted Living Care Center that he would be receiving visitors from a company called Sigmund Corp. in a few days. The year is 2060.

They were familiar with the company, but none had ever come to their small facility who could afford such an expensive procedure. Also, this was not a procedure that ethics could accurately determine the moral implications and therefore was looked at with suspicion and a sacrilegious mindset by most in the town. However, aside from all this, the facility knew that if this was the sleeping man's last wish, then they had no place to interfere.

On the sidewalk leading to the facility two people in lab coats were talking as they walked into the building.

"Haven't seen you in a while Ria. Where have you been?"

"Just took a break, Mark. Needed to get away. All the negativity Sigmund Corp. has been getting these days really started to get to me." Replied Ria

"Really? Come on, Ria! You've been doing this for years. How is it just now getting to you?" Mark said somewhat in disbelief.

"I just had a few really bad cases that got national news. Hear about that guy who wanted to kill the president? I was on that case."

Mark raised his eyebrows in mild shock, "Oooh. Alright, I understand then. Yeah the press had a field day with that one."

"You have no idea." Ria replied pondering

They continued walking to the door. Once they arrived, Mark opened the door for Ria and asked, "So what brought you back?"

"What else? It's the best damn job I can find. Also, I love to travel, so getting to visit all the different patients in different states is really exciting to me. That, and honestly, I missed it."

"Yeah, once you find a good one, it kinda makes the whole job worth it. Anyway, so know anything about this case?" Mark said getting down to business.

Ria grabbed her clipboard from her purse and glanced at it, "Only what is on the briefing, which is surprisingly not much. Doesn't even list any family."

"Probably just a rich guy who wants to relive his younger days again. That's typically what happens when they don't have any info."

"Eh, not always." Ria cautioned. "Jason was telling me that he just he had a guy not too long ago that had no family or friends yet apparently the facility itself paid for his wish. He told them his story and they were so moved that they agreed to pay."

"Dang, that actually makes me pretty happy. Good to know there is still some good in the world and not just all the rich pricks get their last wish granted." Mark said optimistically.

"You're right, anyway. Looks like we are almost to the counter."

The two of them walked through the large hallway and made it to the reception area where a nice looking mid-twenties receptionist sat awaiting them.

"Hello!" Mark called grabbing the attention of the clerk, "We are here to see Mr. Ernest Caloman. We are the Sigmund Corp. employees."

"Ah, yes. We've been expecting you. Do you have all of your equipment?" replied the receptionist

"Yes we do." Mark replied showing his rather bulky briefcase at his side.

"Great, right this way." She said getting up and leading them down another 2 hallways to the room where the old man slept, unmoving

"Good morning Mr. Caloman. How are we doing today?" asked the receptionist

Mr. Caloman laid with his eyes closed and his hands at his side. There was a large plastic tube coming from his throat forcing him to keep breathing. Tubes pumping fluids into his arms and chest were abundant and his chest moved with a slight up and down motion.

"I take it he is in a coma?" Mark asked cautiously.

The receptionist replied, "He has been like this since 2 days ago. It's really a shame. He talked when he first arrived, even walked around and was pretty healthy. But after a few weeks his liver began to fail, then his kidneys, then just last week something took a turn for the worse and he's been unresponsive ever since. I'm not sure if he will recover. It's a good thing you guys arrived when you did. He may not have much longer."

"Ah, I see. Well we will do everything we can to make him happy." Mark said putting the briefcase on the ground and beginning to take all the machines and wires out.

"So…" began the receptionist after a brief pause, "If you don't mind, what exactly do you guys do?"

Ria chimed in to speak since Mark was busy setting up, "We grant people's last wishes."

"Yeah, I get that. But how exactly? Like, what does that thing do?" she asked pointing at what Mark was working on.

"That, "began Ria, "Is a memory downloader and editor. What it does is it finds the active memories the subject is focusing on most during their dying days and then allows us download those memories into an editing space. We then enter those memories through these helmets.

Mark had just place two futuristic looking helmets with screens on them on the ground and began connecting wires to the helmets.

"So, we wear these helmets and then Mark has one more that goes on Mr. Caloman's head. We then administer an anesthetic to put the patient into a vulnerable dream state. Then when the machine starts up it connects to any active memories and projects them onto the screen in front of our eyes putting us essentially in the memory."

The receptionist still had a suspicious look and replied, "Ok, so how does that help grant his wish?"

"Well, when we enter the memories we then begin to search for an object in their memory that is linked to another important memory. Then, once we find it, we call them mementos, we scan the object with our ACEs. Then when we touch the memento, the next memory is found and generated and we begin the process all over again.

"Wow, technology sure is something these days." Said the receptionist.

"That it is." Replied Ria. "Anyway, onto business. Since you are the one who showed us to the room I take it there is no family?"

"None. Honestly it's kinda sad. He was just dropped off 3 months ago with a check for his first and last month here and we have been receiving payments ever since. No one has come to see him at all."

"No one?" Inquired Ria in disbelief. "Then how did he pay for this?"

"No idea, he just came down last week with a letter saying you would be here sometime today. Honestly it's kinda spooky how he fell ill right before you all get here."

"That is very bizarre. Well, maybe we will find out in his memories." Said Ria hopefully. She then started helping Mark connect wires.

The receptionist was almost out the door when she stopped and reluctantly asked one more question.

"Is it… is it true that you guys do euthanasia?" she asked cautiously.

Ria, having suffered many different versions of this conversation before, replied with experienced calmness, "Yes, if it is conclusively and decisively the wish of the subject. Yes we will perform euthanasia."

"Ahh, I see…. Did, Mr. Caloman sign up for one?" asked the receptionist even more cautiously.

"Yes, yes he did."

"I see… So this really is the last time I will see him?" The receptionist asked with a hint of sadness.

"Unless you believe in an afterlife." Ria calmly replied

"Not exactly." The receptionist chuckled

"Then yes, this will be the last time."

"Oh… ok…" the receptionist looked sad. "I guess if that's what he wants. But I just feel weird having a corporation get paid for it. It feels like a weird type of mercenary."

"I will say this. We do not allow euthanasia if there is any protest from the family. It has to be a unanimous decision by everyone. Honestly, that is the policy we have the most trouble with. Many times the patient will say they want a euthanasia but the family refuses when we get there and we are required to respect the wishes of the family."

"Hmm, I guess that should make me feel better. Eh." The receptionist said as she gave a small shrug then left the room.

Ria watched her go down the hall and turn the corner. She then looked back into the room where Mark was finishing hooking up wires to a large computer set on a portable desk.

Ria looked down at Mark's progress and said, "You know, Jason would have had this done 5 minutes ago."

"That may be correct." Mark replied, "But Jason never double checks the remote memory links so every now and then an operator will be in the program and unable to shift to the next memory. You have any idea how annoying that is? I'll take my time and do it right."

"Whatever. We almost ready to go?" Ria inquired impatiently.

"Yep, got everything hooked up. Just waiting on the test pings…" There was a ding on the computer monitor, "Now. Looks like we are ready."

"Good, alright. So you read over the briefing on the patient?"

Mark reached into his now nearly empty computer briefcase and pulled out a clipboard with papers on it, "Yep. Not much to read is there? You notice anything?"

"Not a thing." Ria replied, "It almost felt as if they knew nothing about this guy and he just randomly called. I even tried asking if they know where he is from and apparently he wouldn't say, all he knows is he wants to see the sea."

"Man, what a trip. I'm really kinda curious to see why?"

"Me too, then again, I always am."

There was a brief silence before Mark spoke up, "Well, no time like the present. You ready Ria?"

"As ready as ever. Lets go." She said picking up the helmet and placing it on her head.

The two of them both put the helmets hooked up to the computer on top of their heads and sat down on the nearby couch. When the helmet was activated small probes came out of the helmets and imbedded themselves just under the skin where an electronic signal sensor can pick up the electric signals from the brain. The two then almost immediately went into a trance-like state and plopped their heads back on the couch while their minds were taken to the depths of a dying man's memories.


	2. Chapter 1

Ch. 1

When Ria and Mark opened their eyes they were still in the same room as before only Ernest was awake and sitting at his desk writing a letter by hand. They both had their invisible masking shield turned on their ACEs so they could not be seen or heard.

"That still gets to me every time. It's like you get punch in the gut and shot with a dose of morphine all at once." Mark said rubbing his forehead.

"I thinks it's kinda nice. Sort of like that stomach dropping feeling when you're in an airplane." Ria responded casually.

"You like that! I can't stand that. I try to get cases within driving distance for that very reason."

"Well to each their own." Ria said assessing the scene before them. "Is he writing a letter by hand? That's sweet. I wish more people would do that nowadays. It's only ever older people who write letters."

"Eh, I get the whole 'it means more if it is in a letter' thing, but the reality is people are too busy nowadays to write letters and it's just too convenient to text."

Ria gave Mark an annoyed looked, "So then don't write them. I wasn't saying you had to. I was just saying it would be nice if people would slow down and take some time to show someone what they mean to them."

Mark ignored Ria's comment and got right into the scene before them, "Yeah, yeah. Anyway lets see what we got here.

Ernest finished writing the letter, held it up to the light, decided it was good enough and placed it back on the table. He then let out a great, heavy sigh and got up to get ready for bed. Mark and Ria kept their masking devices on to not disturb the scene and learn as much as they could from their patient.

Ernest changed into his pajamas, brushed his teeth, took his medication and got into bed. He then closed his eyes and quietly prayed, "Please God. Please. I know I never really talked to you much but this one time, please. Please let him understand. I don't know how he will but if anyone could help it would be you. Please just make him understand how much I need this. I hope this is how prayers work. Thank you."

By the end of the prayer tears were falling down his cheeks through tightly shut eyes. He then gave a few sniffles then a deep breath. Once his breathing was calm again, he fell right to sleep.

"Well, that was a little unexpectedly emotional. Let's see what he is talking about." Mark said undoing his invisible masking. He then grabbed the newly written letter.

"Yeah, hold it closer to the light so I can see." Ria replied beginning to read the letter.

Dear Jason,

I know its been months since we've seen each other and I know its been years since we truly talked. So, to begin, I must first say… I am sorry. I am sorry, my son. I am sorry for everything I have done and everything I have put you through. I am sorry for my negligence. I am sorry for my anger. I am sorry for my actions and I am sorry for not understanding your pain as well. I have realized that the latter half of my life is filled with nothing but regret. I did not know how to live after they were gone. I honestly don't know how I have survived this long. I don't remember much of the past few years but I have remembered these past 3 months. This has been the first time in such a long time I can remember thinking clearly. It's wonderful! Sure the first few weeks were hell, but they passed and now I am actually happy. The staff here is very friendly and they even convinced me to socialize with some of the other old farts. I've even began remembering more and more from my younger days. It's been great! Well, almost. A few weeks after I got here I was diagnosed with liver failure, go figure, and I have been slowly getting worse ever since. They said that I probably only have another month or two, and honestly, at this point, I wish it were sooner. …..I don't know if that makes you happy or sad, and that is the only thing still keeping me from just offing myself altogether. Whether or not you would even care. I wouldn't blame you if you didn't. I miss you Jason. I have for so long. I wanted to be the father you deserved, but if wants and dreams were money we'd all be millionaires. So that brings me to the actual reason I am writing this letter. I am sure you have heard of Sigmund Corp. and you know their business. If you could find it in your heart, or if you even have an ounce of affection for me anymore, please son, please do this for me! I understand how expensive it is and I also understand that this is a lot to ask of someone you hate, but I figured since I have nothing else to lose I might as well try. I don't want you to hate me, but I also am not naïve enough to think you will forgive me. To be honest, I don't expect you to. I don't deserve forgiveness for what I've done. I don't deserve anything. However the reality is I am a dying man with nothing to his name. No sons. No wife. No life. All I have is a wish. A wish to see the sea again… You know why. I know these people would be able to grant me that. Then, I will be gone from your life forever. So finally, please son, do this for me. If you ever had any love, kindness, or empathy for your dying father please, I am begging you, do this for me. Grant me my last chance to see the sea.

Love,

Your Father

Ernest.

Ria finished the letter before Mark and kept her tongue until Mark also finished. He was the first to speak up,

"Shi-iit" he said splitting the single syllable curse in two. "One memory in and we already get hit with something this heavy."

"You aren't used to that, yet? The first memory is always either a funeral or someone moping over their loved one's death." Ria replied.

"And this isn't either, I can handle those. You just ignore everything. This is different. Seriously, who writes letters anymore?"

"Would you really expect someone to send something like this through a text?" Ria asked accusingly.

"You could word it a different way."

"How?"

"I don't know. It's not my life!" Mark said getting somewhat defensive.

"Sorry, didn't mean to upset you. I'm just saying this is probably the best way to say something like this. It makes the message as personal as the intent behind it." Ria replied calmly.

"Oh, do we have us an amateur behavioral psychologist?" Mark asked jokingly.

"Shut up Mark."

"Just trying to make things light. Looks like we are gonna need it for this one." Mark replied ignoring the remark while pulling his ACE from his pocket. "Let's see where the memento into the next memory is."

He then pressed a button on the ACE and a laser began scanning the whole room with a line of green light. Then, once it completed the room it shone a bright glowing green/yellow light coming from a closet on the other side. Mark walked over to the closet, opened it, and looked inside. There was a glowing trench coat in the back of the closet on the floor.

"Huh? Guess I found it. Why isn't it hung up like the rest?" Mark asked aloud picking up the coat.

"No idea." Ria said walking over to Mark. "Doesn't matter does it?"

"No, just curious. Eh whatever. Let's see what's next." Mark said point his ACE at the coat. It scanned the whole thing and then the coat began to glow.

The two grabbed hold of the memento, pressed a button on their ACEs, and were sucked into the next memory.


	3. Chapter 2

Ch. 2

They now emerged outside in the rain in front of a small downtown liquor store. The buildings surrounding them were not big enough for a big city, only three or four stories tall. So, it was assumed that they were in a small sort of town. Many empty lots also stood were buildings used to be but have been torn down. No one has built anything since. A depressing tranquility fell upon the scene due to the rain.

"Well, looks like I was right. This is a hell of a depressing scene. Glad we can turn on water resilience." Mark said pressing a button on his ACE.

"Depressing? I like the rain. It's soothing. Makes me feel at ease." Ria replied basking in the feeling of the rain on her skin.

"Yeah, soothing as an itchy ball sack." Mark said with a frown.

"What a lovely image Mark. Thank you for that." Ria replied rolling her eyes.

"Well that's what happens when you have to run in the rain. The puddles splash onto your body and the water drains down to your crotch causing chaffing giving you an itchy ballsack."

"AGAIN! THANK YOU FOR THE LOVELY IMAGE YOU PESTIALANT CHILD!" Ria screamed at Mark.

"I just don't like rain." Mark said sheepishly.

"Then keep your opinions to yourself and let me enjoy mine!" Ria nearly shouted at Mark. "God, you are so immature."

"Proud of it, too! Come on, let's find where Mr. Caloman is."

Just as Mark was talking a man stumbled out of a nearby liquor store into a puddle on the ground. He laid on the ground unmoving, face down.

"I think we may have found him." Ria said walking over to the face down man.

Ernest wore the same dingy trench coat from the closet, a pair of extremely torn and ratty jeans, and a plain white (stained yellow) t-shirt. He had a beard that reached to his chest and looked to be needing a trim a year ago. There was mud and dirt all over his face and his eyes were bloodshot and glazed over. He was lying on the ground moaning irritated when a black Camaro pulled up near Ernest and a tall, middle-aged man in a very nice business suit got out opening an umbrella.

The man walked over to Ernest on the ground and shook his head. He then set the umbrella on the ground and pulled the old man up to his feet.

"Are you kidding me? I knew you were in bad shape but damn. Come on." the business suit man said.

There was no reply from Ernest, who barely looked to be paying any attention. The businessman again shook his head and lead Ernest to a nearby restaurant.

"Well, I guess we have to follow them." Ria said crossing the street.

"Yeah, who do you think the guy is?" Mark said catching up to Ria.

"Don't know, I'm sure we will find out though. Probably brother? Best Friend? Son? Lover?"

"My money is on son. He didn't strike me as the gay type." Mark said assuredly.

"How would you know? He was in a coma!?" Ria replied in mild disbelief.

"I have excellent gay-dar thank you very much."

"And why would that be?" Ria inquired mockingly

"Cause my brother was gay."

"Oh… ok then." Ria replied quieting herself.

The two entered the building and sat down at an empty table. Ernest and the businessman were sitting across the aisle from them easily within earshot.

"So, you want anything, dad?" The man in the suit asked.

"Told ya!" Mark said. Ria ignored.

There was no response from Ernest. He merely sat staring at the cup of coffee he had his hands wrapped around.

"You look thin. How about I get you something to eat? What are you in the mood for?"

Still, no response.

"Country-Fried Steak, that used to be your favorite, right? How about that?"

Ernest looked up at his son for a moment. Narrowed his eyes, then went back to staring at his coffee.

The man in the suit began to be irritated and replied accordingly, "Fine. If you are still the arrogant, stubborn, child of a man you always were, I won't force you to eat. But that doesn't mean I am going to allow you to continue living like this."

Ernest finally spoke, in a graggly, sick sounding voice, "Why the hell do you care? I didn't ask you to come here. Why can't you just leave me alone?"

"Believe me I want to, dad. You are the last person I want to sit down and have a chat with. But it seems that your lack of a will to live has actually started to affect my life as well."

Ernest was obviously surprised at this and changed his expression from anger and disgust, to surprise and disgust.

"Yes. Also, you have cost me quite a bit of money in the last few weeks. See, you remember that big plan I had years ago to start my own business? Well, because I actually have some ambition, I started that business and it has grown every year since it started by at least double. So much so that I have started attracting shamers. Worthless people whose job it is to dig up dirt on any new business to prevent them from getting too big so the ones already in place don't lose more of their market share. Well one of these shamers found out that the head of Caloman industries has a father who is a local town drunk and nuisance. They found this out because of your recent string of arrests which made the local paper. "

Ernest was now no longer looking at his coffee cup, but rather into the eyes of his son, with extreme hate. He then spat at his son, "Good to know that I'm still in your thoughts, Jason."

"Not willingly." Jason replied, stone-faced. "Believe it or not, I found out about your arrests before they did and tried to quite them. I still talk with Sherriff Marley from time to time and he informed me of your first arrest a year ago, and the one 10 months ago, and the one 4 months ago, and also the one 2 weeks ago."

Ernest glared at his son again, then went back to staring at his coffee cup.

"Ever wonder how on earth you got out of those arrests? Huh? Ever wonder who posted your bail FOUR DAMN TIMES!?" Jason yelled at his father

Ernest again merely stared in hatred at his cup.

"NO! No you didn't. You were too obsessed with how awful your life is to even notice something like that. That would make sense. It would require a somewhat decent person to think, 'Huh, I wonder who posted my bail? Maybe I should check on that and thank them for keeping me out of jail.' But no. You just went right back to the bottle. Like you always have."

This last comment was the only one to merit a reaction from Ernest, a small wince at his last words. As if those were the only thing that actually affected him. Yet, still, he sat, silent.

"But not like any of that matters. I heard from the sheriff a year ago you got picked up for drunk and disorderly and wanted to ignore it. Let you sulk in a cell for the rest of your worthless life. But my P.R. manager mentioned that this would hurt our family friendly image so she convinced me to get you out. So I guess you have her to thank… or blame, whatever the hell you think. But when it happened again, and again, and again, we realized we needed to find a more cost effective solution for you."

Ernest still sat motionless staring at his cup, though his scowl had vanished and been replaced by a tired longing look. Still, he would not look his son in the eyes.

"So here I am today. I got a call this morning from Sherriff Marley that you were wandering town drunk again and I asked him to wait on taking you downtown. I had a different solution."

Ernest now, suddenly, looked up at his son with tears forming in the edges of his eyes, "So that's all I am to you? A problem in need of a solution? A boil to be lanced?"

"I don't see how I could see you as anything else." Jason replied almost matter-o-factly.

This was the point in which Ernest truly realized he had no hope left in life. The already slouched shoulders fell to their lowest point. The heavy head hung lower than low. The tired angry eyes gave up their fight and gave way to tears instead. He looked like a pile of old laundry with a face and teary eyes.

"So that is why I have come to you with a choice, Dad. I can't allow you to tarnish our name any longer. Sherriff Marley is waiting around the block to take you downtown and book you away until you find someone else to bail you out. But, I don't think that is the best option. I have arranged with the Kingdom's Dominion Assisted Living Center to take you in and keep an eye on you. But know this, you will sober up. You will behave. And you will no longer be the parasite on my life you have been for the past 20 years. Those are your choices. Kingdom's Dominion, or jail. There is a taxi waiting outside."

Jason then picked up his things and stood up. He looked one last time at his father, who still hung his head with tears gently falling from his eyes. Jason let out a disappointed, heavy sigh and began walking towards the door.

"Jason, wait!" a voice called to him from the booth. There, Ernest had gotten up and started walking toward Jason. "Why? Why did you even care enough to post my bail?

Jason looked at his father, who stared back with hollow and empty eyes, and could not muster even an ounce of pity, "I don't care about you. I care about myself. How would my image look if I, a millionaire, let his dad rot in jail? Huh? I would be seen as a negligent son. This is much easier, and hopefully you'll be happy. Or at least happy enough to stay quiet."

Jason looked at his father the way a rich man looks at a beggar. Utter disgust. Ernest responded by not looking his son in the eye. Jason was about six inches taller than his father so his towering presence over shadowed Ernest's spindly gaunt frame. Ernest looked as if he was in shock by his son's words, but only mildly. He eventually looked up, stared his son in the eyes for a long time then hung his head once more.

"Fine, you win, Jason. I won't fight you anymore. I won't fight anything anymore. But since I probably won't ever see you again, answer me this one last thing. How did you move on?"

Jason seemed to be effected more than he wanted to be by this question. He carefully thought about his answer and responded, "Because she needed me to. That's all it took."

Ernest and Jason stared at each other, trying to read what the other was thinking. They stared for about minute, until Jason broke gaze first. He then put on his raincoat and walked out the building. Ernest followed after.

Jason entered his Camaro while a taxi had pulled up behind. Sherriff Marley was waiting at the door to the taxi to let Ernest in. Jason gave his father one last half wave before he entered the vehicle and drove off. Ernest stood in the doorway of the restaurant looking at his son drive away in the rain.

Mark and Ria had been silent for the majority of the father and son conversation. Ria was the first to speak up, "Wow, I don't think I've ever seen so much hate between a father and son. Have you Mark?"

"Not as open, no. Man, the hell happened to this family?" Mark said in somewhat disbelief.

"No idea, but I get the feeling we are going to find out."

"I think you're right."

Mark and Ria got up from their table and walked to the doorway Ernest was still standing in. Sherriff Marley saw that he was not moving and called him over to the taxi.

"Ernest! Come on now. You can't stand in the doorway forever. Come on, the taxi is warm and dry." The sheriff said.

Ernest did not respond. Instead he reached into the pocket of his trench coat and pulled out a piece of folded multicolored paper. There were lines, numbers and brackets that Mark could see on the paper. He stood looking down at the paper until Sheriff Marley eventually walked over and grabbed Ernest by the arm.

"I don't have time for you to be moping around Ernest, come on, lets go."

Ernest allowed himself to be dragged by the sheriff holding onto the paper the whole time. The sheriff grumbled but Ernest paid no heed. Once he was in front of the open taxi, he gave one last look at the piece of paper.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I failed. I'm sorry I couldn't even give back what you gave me." He said and then dropped the piece of paper. It fell from his hands into the slow moving stream of water and floated down to the storm grate. Tears were in his eyes as he saw it float away.

Mark and Ria were standing just inside the restaurant watching Ernest get into the taxi with the officer.

"Well…" Mark said, breaking the silence. "I guess we know what the letter was for. I expected there to be some tension and animosity. But that was just plain hatred."

Ria nodded in agreement, "And the way they talked to each other, my God! It's like they were mortal enemies rather than father and son."

"Not sure those are mutually exclusive Ria."

"Yeah, I know. But still. They didn't even seem to want to recognize they were related. I mean the way Jason talked about his dad. It was like he wasn't even human. As if he was a parasite or something."

Mark didn't immediately respond and chewed his thoughts for a moment, "If what he was saying is true, about him being a drunk that is, who are we to say he wasn't a parasite to his son?"

"Are you defending his actions?"

"Not at all", Mark said putting up his hands, "Just trying to understand his thoughts. If he truly has no love left for his dad, why would he see him as anything other than a parasite? He is a blemish in his otherwise fairly perfect world. I think I remember hearing something about Caloman Industries. Pretty sure that is the new shoe manufacturing place up in Iowa. Supposed to be bringing like 10000 jobs to the state or something like that."

"Still…" Ria replied, "It's his father. That alone should mean something."

"But it doesn't to a lot of people. Maybe you weren't ready to come back to this job, Ria? You seem to be letting this sort of stuff affect you." Mark asked accusingly.

"I'm fine." Ria replied defiantly. "I am just speaking my mind."

"Alright, whatever you say." He replied pulling out his ACE and scanning the area. "Let's just get to the next memory.

After the ACE scanned the whole area a small amount of light began to shine from the grate halfway down the street. When Mark and Ria approached the grate they saw that a piece of paper was glowing. The piece that Ernest had dropped.

"Great, its all soggy now." Ria said looking over Mark who was leaning to pick it up.

"Actually, no its not, look." Mark said revealing that the paper was in fact laminated in plastic. "But why would someone laminate this?"

The piece of paper was a rent payment bill that had been laminated.

"No idea, let me take a look at that." Ria said snatching the bill from Mark. "What the hell? This is from 15 years ago, look!"

Sure enough, when Ria extended the paper for Mark to see there was the date in the upper right hand corner, "Due by June 3, 2025"

"What the hell? Why would someone laminate an old bill?"

"Your guess is as good as mine. Though I will say this is a first." Ria said mildly astonished. "I've had some weird mementos but a laminated rent bill? There better be something to this."

"I'm sure there is. What's the weirdest memento you ever had?" Mark said curiously.

Ria thought for a brief moment, "Probably that prosthetic leg from that soldier a few years back."

"A prosthetic leg!? Yeah that would be a little weird. How was it connected?" Mark asked.

"It actually ended up taking me to a memory in which his dog had somehow taken it off while he slept and had hidden it in the house. The memory was of him hopping around on his other leg going from room to room looking for it. I felt bad, but it was pretty funny."

Mark started laughing at the memory, "Lucky! I've never gotten something that funny."

Ria's expression quickly turned from happy recollection, to sad remembrance. "It was funny at first, but it's not typically funny by the end…"

Mark stopped his laugh short and changed to a somber expression as well, "Yeah, even the best ones are bittersweet. I really wish we could figure out a way to make them feel like they got their wish granted without having to overwrite and replace the memories that got them there. "

"Me too. It would make this job so much easier." Ria said wishfully. "But they won't believe our changes unless ours is the only memory they can think of. "

"I know. Still, I always think it sucks. I know I sure as hell wouldn't get this procedure. I actually like having my memories."

Ria did not respond to Mark's comment. Instead she pressed a few buttons on her ACE and scanned the laminated bill.

"Let's just go to the next memory. Maybe there is an interesting reason why this is the memento." Ria said.

"Alright Ria." Mark replied, noting that she did not respond to his comment.


	4. Chapter 3

Ch. 3

The scene Mark and Ria emerged into was that of a run-down one bedroom trailer that smelled very heavily like trash. In fact the first thing both Mark and Ria did when they entered the memory was disable their olfactory sensors.

"Good God! Smells like this place hasn't been cleaned in months!" Mark exclaimed as he shut off his smell sensor.

"Judging by looks, you're probably right." Ria added.

The trailer had piles of pizza boxes, old booze bottles and food wrappers scattered sporadically on the floor. In the living room of the trailer there was a very old and torn couch, a small 12 inch TV, and a yellow-gray lazyboy chair across from the TV. In the lazyboy sat Ernest, who looked to be both heavier, and somehow older than the last memory, 100 pounds heavier at least. They could notice dirt and food particles littered about his much stained clothing. He sat staring at the TV across from him, which was playing an old game show called Family Feud that had been off the air for decades. Reruns however played constantly on some TV channels.

"Man, this guy is something else isn't he? Looks like he hasn't moved from that spot in days. Maybe weeks!" Mark said walking around what might as well have been a sitting corpse.

"Probably. I really more want to know where that bill is. That's still confusing me. You see it anywhere?" Ria asked beginning to look around through the trash scattered about.

"That's what you're interested in? Look around you Ria! This guy is living in a dump. Honestly not sure if this is better than being homeless."

"People live however they want to. Not everybody is a clean freak, Mark."

"I know that, but this is more than dirty. This is just plain disgusting."

As they were arguing the acceptability of the house's state they heard voices coming from outside the front door. Ria and Mark both stopped talking and nodded in understanding, then they went through the wall of the trailer, by pressing the invisibility enabler on their ACEs, and saw what was on the other side.

Two men stood just outside the door talking to one another. One was an elderly looking man with balding hair, large eyebrows, and a slight hunchback. The other was a very young twenty something with a strong jawline and a huge mop of wavy brown hair. Ria noticed he was quite handsome. The two were discussing something that sounded serious, but the tone between them was very cordial.

"I know, I know." Said the old man, "But you have to understand that I have others who WILL pay waiting to get this exact place! It's not that I don't like your dad. He used to be a really nice guy. It's just business. You understand, right Jason?"

"Wait, did he say Jason? That's JASON!" Ria exclaimed, "Wow! He changes a lot between now and the last memory."

"You ain't kidding." Mark added, "Here he looks barely old enough to drink."

"He may not be."

"Hmm." Ria said, then went back to listening to the conversation.

"I understand, yeah. But didn't you say you understood our situation?" asked Jason. "Didn't you say you could help us out? I'm trying to do the best I can here John, but you know how hard it is to get them to do something they don't want to do. It's worse than pulling teeth!"

The old man breathed a sigh that told he did understand, but he also had to face reality, "You know I understand more than anyone else you know. I tried for 3 full years to get my mom back on her feet after dad died. Sometimes you just can't do it. But you also have to hear me out Jason. I don't make enough to help support you and your dad. I only have around 6 properties and if just one of them isn't paying I can't pay expenses. I only agreed to this deal because you made that first 3 months payment."

"Yeah, but I know he is close to a breakthrough, I'm sure if you just give him a month or so he will be back to normal." Jason pleaded. His eyes beginning to well with tears.

"My hands are tied Jason. I can't keep paying my bills and letting your dad stay here for free. Even if he did go through hell." The old man said with true sorrow in his eyes.

Jason did not respond immediately and instead place both his hands on the front door and leaned. He then hung his head, gave a deep, heavy sigh, then stood up strait with an extremely fake smile.

"It's ok John. I understand. Really I do. This is a small town and you can't afford to not be making what you plan on. I can't tell you how grateful I am to you for letting us rent this place for half price for the first 3 months."

"You know I would do it again if I could. You and your family has always been good to me and mine." John replied with a teary smile.

"Thank you."

"Your welcome. Any idea what you're gonna do next?" Asked John.

"I'll figure something out." Replied Jason hopefully.

"Good luck. You got till the end of the week." John said as he walked toward his car.

"Thanks again." Jason shouted as John entered his vehicle and sped away. He stood there outside the door staring at the car drive away until he could no longer see it. Then he stared a bit longer.

"What do you think he's thinking about?" Ria asked Mark.

"No idea. I don't try to put myself in their shoes. Makes the whole job too personal." Mark replied trying to ignore Ria.

"Oh… ok. Never mind then." She said somewhat offended.

Jason took another deep breath then went back inside. He closed the door and looked around the place. He grimaced as he saw the bugs, trash and liquor bottles scattered everywhere. He proceeded to walk around the room glaring at all the obstacles blocking his path to get to where his father sat, half-coherent.

"Dad? You awake.?" Inquired Jason.

Ernest did not exactly reply, but instead opened his eyes and glared at Jason while keeping his head pointed straight at the TV. He then began to ignore Jason as well as he could.

"It's, uh. Good to see you." Jason said unconvincingly. "Thought you might have answered my calls when I tried to let you know I was coming home. But, whatever. How are you Dad?"

Still no answer from Ernest, or acknowledgement.

Jason went on talking as if his dad had responded, "Good, good. I've been alright. Been out of school now for 6 months and I'm about to start a new business."

Ernest sat motionless.

Jason began to bite his lip in frustration, "It's with my buddy Don from college. You remember Don? We got some really big investors to help us build this gigantic shoe factory up in Iowa. It's gonna be one of the largest in the country!"

Ernest did respond to this, but not in a way Jason hoped. He began to lift his arm, and then reach down to an empty pizza box next to his chair, to grab the remote control. He then turned the volume on the TV up 10 or 15 notches.

A deep scowl emerged on Jason's face and he turned away from his father to regain his composure. He then walked over to his father, grabbed the remote from his hand, and turned the TV off.

Ernest did not acknowledge this immediately and continued to stare at the TV for another 30 seconds. When Jason realized his father was going to be irrationally stubborn, he continued on his spiel.

"Well since you're gonna be THAT way. I guess I will get right down to the point. You gonna be out of here in a few days, dad. Sorry to break it to you." Jason said not really showing any emotion in his words.

Ernest matched his emotional caliber and did not respond. Physically or verbally.

"So that means, you're gonna need to find somewhere else to live. Do you understand that, dad? Seriously, do you even understand what that means?"

Again, Ernest remained motionless, though his eyes did begin to form even more of a scowl.

"You're going to be homeless, dad. HOMELESS! And you can't live with me. Even if you wanted to. You have to start living your life again!" Jason said, now starting to show some form of care.

Ernest silently refused to acknowledge his son, turning his head to look towards the kitchen opposite where his son stood.

"Believe it or not, you still are my dad and I don't want to see you out on the street. But I have a business to run now. I can't support you and my dream. Come on dad, please. Say something!" Jason said now on his knees next to his father looking away from him

Ernest finally responded. He turned his head. Looked at his son. Blinked three times. Then reached down and took the remote back from his son's hand and turned the TV back on.

Jason then became visibly angry. Blood boiled in his ears. He took a deep breath, walked in front of his father and kneeled.

"Let me ask you something, father. Do you even remember how to live anymore?" Jason asked kneeling in front of his father forcing him to stop staring at the TV.

Ernest tried his best to look through his son as he blocked his view. He tried to avoid eye contact but after a few seconds when he realized Jason was not moving stared blankly at his son.

Jason flashed an evil grin and asked again, "Well do you?"

The two stared each other down for a full minute. Ernest was the first to break gaze and look towards the ground.

"That's what I thought. I haven't wanted to admit it but it seems like I have no other choice. You truly are a worthless piece of shit." Jason said standing up. "God, why the hell did I pay for your first three months here? What was I thinking? You were a worthless piece of shit then just like you're a worthless piece of shit now. I just wish I would have realized it sooner."

He had apparently had enough of his father's silent treatment and began walking towards where he had set his coat, "Would have saved me a lot of money and time if I had just given up on you when she died. But no, I had to keep her damn charade alive."

Ernest had stopped trying to watch the TV and was now solely focused on Jason with a deep scowl. "Don't you dare talk about her that way!" Ernest growled at his son.

"Oh, so I finally got a few words out of you. Great!" Jason shouted much louder and sarcastically than necessary, "She would've said, 'Yay! Progress! I got more than 4 words out of him today!' Sound about right, dad?"

"Don't TALK ABOUT HER THAT WAY!" Ernest said now emerging from his chair with great difficulty.

"OR WHAT!? Huh? WHAT ARE YOU GONNA DO ABOUT IT?" Jason screamed at his father. "COME ON! YOU DON'T LIKE ME TALKING ABOUT HER LIKE THAT? WELL!? DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT!?"

Jason had now dropped his coat and began walking back towards his father hoping he would swing at him, "Come on, dad! Show me how much you care. Show me how much you actually care about your dead wife! About my dead mom! Hit me! COME ON HIT ME! Show me that there still is a shred of the man you used to be left in you."

Jason's face was an inch away from his father's. Both were scowling with an intensity reserved for war. Jason desperately wanted his father to show some form of backbone. Ernest was the first to react.

"Fuck you. You are no son of mine. I have no sons… anymore." Ernest said as he fell back in his chair.

Jason was dumbstruck for a moment. "Well… I…", He then regained his composure and replied, "I can honestly say I wasn't expecting that. I thought you might give me a rematch. But anyway. Glad to know I don't need to worry about what you think of me anymore. Goodbye father, and good luck."

Jason then turned away from his father, walked over to pick up his coat, and began putting it on.

"Oh, by the way. Don't worry about paying me back. Looks like you're gonna need every cent you can beg for and I don't like taking money from the homeless." Jason said almost matter-o-factly as opened the door.

He stopped for one moment looking at his father in his chair. Ernest sat stoically with an emotionless face. Jason gazed upon his father's face for what he thought would be his last time. Closed his eyes to prevent tears from falling, and walked out the door.

When Jason was gone, Ernest let out a long, heavy sigh. He then got out of his chair, waddled over to a side table covered in old letters and trash, and opened a drawer. Inside was a laminated rent bill. He took it out and held it in both hands staring longingly. He continued to look at the bill as he waddled back to his chair and sat down again. He sat for a long while just looking at the bill.

Ria was the first to chime in, "Is he just looking at that thing?"

"That's what it seems like." Mark added walking toward the chair.

"Why would he be just looking at a bill? Think he might already regret what he said?" Ria asked Mark contemplatively.

"I kinda doubt that based on the last memory. Maybe he is just…"

"I don't care if you want it or not. I am not a charity case. You will get this back before I die even if it kills me." Ernest blurted out to himself through what sounded like gritted teeth. "I did not ask for this but you gave it to me anyway. Now its all I have left. Why couldn't you have just gone on with your life and let me join her where we belong? Now I have a debt I actually have to pay."

Ernest then suddenly raised the bill in the air as if to shout to God himself, "Mark my words Jason, you will not see me die before I give you back what I never wanted from you in the first place!"

He then clutched the bill close to his chest and began to sob. Sob like a man who has lost his children to a war he did not believe in. Guttural sobs. Regretful sobs.

Ria stood behind Ernest captivated by his sudden and abrupt mood change. Mark stood against the wall watching the scene unfold.

Mark was the first to speak up, "So… What do you think Ria? Crazy? Or…?"

Ria suddenly turned off her invisibility on her ACE and approached Ernest. "Sir, excuse me. Sir?"

Ernest stopped his sobs for a brief moment looking up, "Who *sniffle* Who's there?"

"Do not be afraid, I am an angel. I am here to offer you comfort and serenity, Ernest." Ria said in a very calming voice.

Mark was baffled by what was going on in front of him, "Ria, what the hell are you doing?"

Ria ignored Mark and continued, "I do not come to give you answers but only assurance that what you feel now is not permanent and what you want most in this world will be yours before the end."

Ernest was captivated by how Ria looked and how she got there, "Wha..What are you… Huh? What do you mean?"

"I mean whatever you wish it to mean. Please know that you will be fine, and you will receive all you wish for. I must go now. Be at peace." Ria said and then re-enabled her invisibility.

Ernest sat confused and baffled for a few moments looking around for the person he could have sworn just was in this room speaking to him. After he regained his composure, he no longer had a scowl or a depressed look. He more or less just looked numb. He then closed his eyes, laid his head back and started breathing heavily. He was asleep in less than a minute.

"The hell was that about, Ria?" Mark asked confused.

"I don't like to see people sob. Besides, what harm will it do?" Ria inquired.

Mark thought on his words before speaking, "It's not that it does any harm per say. It's just, why? These aren't even real people, or real memories. They're just data, Ria. Projections of the real memories. The real memories are still in Ernest's head and are gonna stay there. We just write over them with a more ideal coding once we figure out what to change to give him what he wants. These people don't matter, they don't even exist."

Ria thought on Mark's words very carefully before saying, "Just because they don't exist, doesn't mean their pain isn't real."

Ria then pressed a button on her ACE to start looking for the next memento while Mark stood looking at Ria dumbstruck as to what he should say in response. She went into the kitchen searching and Mark, not knowing what else to do, went into the bedroom also searching for the memento.

When Mark entered the bedroom he was again dumbstruck, "Ria, you might want to come in here."

Ria came out of the kitchen and walked over to the bedroom, "What's up Mark did you find… What the hell!?"

Ria had entered into the bedroom and was as confused as Mark. The bedroom was pristine. The bed looked like it hasn't been slept in for months considering the thin layer of dust on the comforter. The floor was clean. The closets were closed. The only thing that looked less than immaculate in the bedroom was the dust that coated everything, undisturbed. There was a lamp on the side table next to a fake lily in a clear glass vase that was glowing.

"Well I guess we found the memento." Mark said breaking the silence.

"Yeah, but still. Why is this room clean yet nothing else is?" Ria said in disbelief.

"I can think of a pretty obvious reason why."

"What's that?" Ria said curiously.

"Really? You can't see it? Come on Ria."

"Mark, I am baffled by this, I've never seen anything like this before. Seriously, why would he do something like this."

"His wife died, Ria. Why would he want to sleep in the same bed they used to share? I know I couldn't handle those memories and I've never even been married."

Ria now did not know how to respond and just stood looking at the room lost in thought. Mark walked over to the lily and picked it up.

"And sadly I think I know where the next memory might be. I hope I'm wrong." Mark said staring at the lily. "I guess we will see."

He then pressed a button on his ACE and they both transported to the next memory.


	5. Chapter 4

Ch 4.

Ria and Mark emerged outside in the rain, next to a group of people sitting in chairs, surrounded by tombstones. There was a makeshift tarp-tent overtop of the mourners as they sat staring at a very plain looking dark brown coffin. Jason and Ernest sat in the center of the front row, both looked equal amounts disheveled.

"Damn it, I hate it when I'm right." Mark exclaimed.

"How did you know?"

"Lilies are funeral flowers. When my grandpa died a few years back all the kids took a lily from the coffin. I still have mine in my kitchen on top of my microwave."

Ria raised her eyebrows, "I had no idea you were so sentimental, Mark."

"I'm not. But it's my grandpa. I don't know. It just felt like something I should do. And now whenever I look at it I always think of him. Maybe that's all mementos are for anyway."

"Hmm." Ria began. "Well if I am an amateur behavioral psychologist you could pass as a Philosopher."

"Hell no!" Mark said suddenly. "I made fun of those pricks in school. It's not a major if some random guy can come up with the same bullshit without trying. No thanks."

"There's the Mark I know." Ria said rolling her eyes.

"Let's see what's gonna happen."

The two of them with their invisibility activated stood behind the coffin so they could see Ernest and Jason clearly. They also could see the half of the coffin that was open revealing what they assumed to be Ernest's wife and Jason's mom.

The minister began, "Thank you all so much for coming on this somber morning. I know we all wish it were under better circumstances but the love of God comforts all in their times of most need. We have gathered here today to lay Mrs. Patricia Caloman to rest and celebrate her return to the All Mighty Father. She was a loving wife, mother, friend and companion to so many people. Though the pain is fresh know that it will subside and the memories always will remain. Let us pray."

The whole group bowed their heads accordingly, except for Ernest, who sat motionless staring at the body of his dead wife.

"Our father, who art in heaven. Hallowed be thy name. We come asking tranquility and peace for this family before us. They have suffered so much in these recent years and we only ask for your guidance to acceptance. We also ask that you bless this family in their most desperate hour. Patricia was such a shining light in our dark world. She laughed loudly. Talked fervently. Lived respectfully. And most of all loved intensely. Whether it was her friends, family, or strangers, her presence brightened up the room. She will be truly missed. But she is in your arms now and we know you will keep her safe until we meet her on those golden shores as well. In the name of the father, the son, and the holy spirit. Amen."

Everyone responded in unison, "Amen."

"We will now allow all to come and pay their last respects. Please let's start with the front row." The minister said as he gestured for the front row to get up and pass by the casket.

Everyone filed past Ernest, who sat staring, and Jason, who stood shaking everyone's hands and thanking them for their condolences.

"Thank you so much for coming Mrs. Robinson. Yes, it is more than anyone should have to go through, I agree." Jason said greeting an elderly woman.

"Miss Tammy! So good to see you. How's Jonathon?" Jason asked the next woman in line.

"Good to see you too! I really wish it were under better circumstances. I am so sorry for your loss. He is doing well. Got straight A's last semester. I think he's finally ready for junior high." Replied Miss Tammy.

"Well you tell him hi for me. Would you? And thank you for your condolences." He said patting the woman's hand and turning his attention to the next in line, "Mr. Demeroe so good to see you…"

"I can see why he is a businessman." Ria said suddenly.

"Why's that?" asked Mark.

"He's very good at small talk. But he isn't pushy. He listens and responds accordingly. It's surprising how rare that is nowadays."

"You have a point, but it looks like he kinda has to. I mean have you seen Ernest move since we got here?"

Ria looked over to the man staring at his dead wife. He still remained motionless. "Seems that way. But then again that's common. The children typically are more composed for funerals than the spouse."

"You have a point there."

Mark and Ria waited until all the people had filed past Patricia and gave their condolences to the father and son. Once that was done only the two remained.

"Well dad, I guess we got to go now. The grave digger will be here soon. Plus John is throwing us a reception. I know you haven't eaten in days. Why don't we go get some food?" Jason urged trying to get his father up.

Ernest still did not move. His eyes were glossy from tears yet to fall.

"Dad, don't do this. Come on. Hey! What about this?" Jason said as he walked over to the casket. "What if we keep some of the flowers? They're fake so they will last as long as you want. You could get a nice vase for it and a part of her will always be with you! I'll take one too!"

Jason reached into the bouquet of flowers and pulled out two white lilies. He put one in his suit jacket outer pocket and then offered the other to his dad. Ernest did not react.

Jason was visibly frustrated by this, but ignored it anyway and stuck the lily in his father's outer chest pocket, "There, now you look good. Almost as good looking as me."

Jason was desperately trying to get any sort of reaction out of his dad but nothing seemed to be working, "Dad, we have to go. We can't just sit here forever. I have a life to live and so do you. Come on. Stop being so damn stubborn."

Ria and Mark could tell Jason was getting irritated. He then let out a frustrated grunt and walked back over to behind his father's chair. As he spoke he began to lift the back of his father's chair off the ground . "Come on you selfish prick. Move your lazy ass. I am not gonna watch you sit here and…"

Ernest's fist collided with Jason's jaw with a haymaker intended to hurt, badly. Ernest then turned, grabbed his son by the neck and lunged into him forcing him to fall down, crashing into the folding chairs. Ernest then straddled his son's stomach and started ferociously beating his son with his fists. Blow after blow landing with each phrase.

"FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU ARROGANT DICK! YOU CALL ME A SELFISH PRICK!? YOU'RE THE ONE THAT LEFT! YOU'RE THE ONE WHO WASN'T HERE! YOU'RE THE ONE THAT ABANDONED HER! NOT ME! I STAYED CAUSE SHE NEEDED ME TO! SHE DIDN'T KNOW HOW TO GO ON EITHER! WE WERE THERE FOR EACH OTHER! BUT YOU WEREN'T! YOU WEREN'T THERE WHEN SHE NEEDED YOU! WHEN HE NEEDED YOU! WHEN I NEEDED YOU! NO! YOU JUST HAD TO LIVE YOUR LIFE WHEN THE PEOPLE WHO LOVED YOU NEEDED YOU MOST! DON'T YOU DARE CALL ME A SELFISH PRICK, AT LEAST I STAYED…"

Ernest had knocked over one of the tarp poles supporting the makeshift tent causing the rain to pour down on the two of them. Both were covered in mud. Jason had not tried to defend himself and instead took the beating from his father in stride. Once Ernest was done he fell off of his son and began to sob. Jason tried to open his eyes, but had difficulty from the immediate swelling. He took some pained breaths and sat up. He then spit a tooth out of his mouth into his hand, along with a large amount of blood.

Jason looked at his bloody hand with a tooth in it and was puzzled. He then began to smile, followed by a chuckle, followed by hysterical laughter.

Ria and Mark now were wondering whether mental problems might run in the family when Jason spoke, "God damn! So that's all it took huh? Just had to call you what you truly are for you to show emotion again."

Ernest responded by turning on his side so he did not have to face his son. His sobs continued.

"Yeah, it's honestly really funny. All I wanted for the past three years if for you to show some form of emotion because that's all she wanted. And you finally break your stoic streak right after she dies while you're beating the shit out of the only family you have left. ISN"T THAT JUST FANTASTIC!?"

Ernest was now sobbing in the fetal position covering himself in mud and rain. His cheek was pressed into the sopping ground.

"No, its not fantastic. It's just ironic. Oh, and guess what, dad? I know all about what you've been up to. Even though I was at school, I still wrote mom every week. She never admitted that there was anything wrong but you remember how bad of a liar she was. I could tell you weren't doing anything. She nearly killed herself trying to provide for the two of you. All while you sat in that fucking chair drinking yourself to death like you have been for the past three years…."

Jason abruptly stopped talking. Walked around to face his father, knelt down and said with murderous hatred, "You know you're the reason she hung herself right, dad?"

"WHAT!?" Ria shouted

"THE HELL!? Mark finished.

Ernest had now stopped crying and was staring up at his son towering over him. He no longer had a look of sorrow, but that of shock. Mouth wide open and everything. Which was quickly replaced by a look of intense rage.

"You don't know a God damn thing about what you're talking about." Ernest responded through gritted teeth.

"And how you would know? How? Based on how she never talked about you in those letters I figured you hadn't changed. But she had. She had lost everything that gave her life meaning. So she tried to find meaning in getting you back on your feet. But you wouldn't even give her that. You wouldn't even try. She eventually realized what a worthless piece of shit you are and how much time she had wasted trying to help you and couldn't take it. Know this dad, I will always think of you as mom's murderer. Because that's what you are. Fuck you, Dad! Fuck you."

He then reached inside his suit jacket and pulled out a few pieces of paper. He held them in his hand for a moment, then dropped them next to Ernest.

"Those are some of my favorites she sent me. I was gonna put them on her casket, but honestly, I don't care anymore. Not like she is gonna mind. So here. Why don't you read through some of these. Hopefully you'll finally see how much she was hurting and how little you did to help her."

Jason then turned around, walked away and got in his car leaving his father crying in the rain and mud. He turned the key in the ignition and drove off.

Ernest did not move. He just laid in the mud letting the rain pummel his body.

"What the hell? Did not expect that!" Mark exclaimed now that everyone had left. "How can you say that to your own father? I'm starting to think this Jason kid, is a bit of a prick."

"You might be right, but what if it's true? What if Ernest is the reason she killed herself? I think that was a pretty acceptable reaction… If it's true." Ria responded.

"You serious, Ria? It doesn't matter if its true or not, this isn't the place. That's something you say when you get home and your emotions are running high so you just say whatever you feel. The funeral is a place for memories and sadness. Not anger. Anyone who brings anger into a funeral isn't a good person. At least that's how I see it." Mark said explaining the situation.

"Then I think that makes both Ernest and his son bad people. But you must have been to some great funerals then. Cause that is certainly not my experience. Granted I've never been to one where the dad beats the son and the son calls his dad a murderer, but I've always seen anger and frustration come out at funerals. Someone they love just died, they can't be held responsible for what comes out of their mouth."

"Well call me old fashioned then but I think there is a time and place for something like this and this is not it." Mark astutely stated

"It's not old fashioned. I think it's just that there are many normal reactions to losing a loved one. One is to silently grieve. Another is to lash out."

Mark chewed his words a moment before replying, "Yeah, everyone grieves in their own way. But I'd be hard pressed to find anyone that thinks beating the hell out of your son at his mom's funeral is acceptable.

Ria had no response.

"Let's see where the memento is. Probably gonna really have to look for this one" He said pulling out his ACE and beginning the scan. "I really hope it's not…"

Mark stopped talking suddenly because he had already found the memento. It was one of the letters Jason had given his father before he left.

"Well, isn't that convenient." He said as he reached down next to Ernest and picked up the glowing piece of paper.

"What does it say?" Inquired Ria.

"Don't know, don't care." Mark said beginning to scan the document. Ria then stole the paper from Mark's grasp mid-scan. "Hey! What the hell!?"

"I want to know what it says. Humor me." Ria said unfolding the paper.

Mark let out a long annoyed groan, "Fiiiine. Just hurry up!"

"I will take as long as I want thank you. Besides we aren't in any hurry are we? He isn't dying immediately. Let me do my fully thorough process."

"You mean your drama fix from the lives of strangers?"

"I will not even acknowledge that with a comment." Ria said dismissively.

"Isn't that in and of itself a comment?" Mark said slyly.

Ria just glared and went on reading the letter.

Dear Jason,

So good to hear that your classes are going well. I'm always so proud when you tell me about all your learning. It makes me excited to see where you will go and what you will do with your life. Glad to hear you are finally making friends. When you told me about that concert you went to it reminded me of when I was your age. Also, I am SOO jealous you went skydiving! I've always wanted to do that. I'm very happy that you got to experience that and now I get to live vicariously through you and not have to face any of the risks! It's fun! You are really lucky that you seem to have found a good group of friends that actually enjoy doing non-typical activities. I mean who ever would have thought that you would end up being into water polo! Also, I noticed you ignored my question about Rachel. So that just makes me think you two are getting serious. Is that so? When do I get to meet her? Is she from around here, there or elsewhere? How did the two of you meet? Et cetera. I just want to know everything about what is going on with you. Things are more or less the same here. Just getting by day to day. But things are … good. Your dad is almost back to normal. Hopefully he will be back at work in the next few weeks. These things just take time. Please don't worry about him. He will be fine. Other than us the town has been running just like it always has been. Meryl finally got her tomatoes in town for the farmers market. They're still the early ones so they're not that good yet, though that never stopped me before. We still have been eating them like crazy. Are mouths are starting to get sore. John Crawley is still feuding with Ferris Dooley over that dang fence between their yards. It seems that the fence is completely removed and replace on a daily basis now. The cops have stopped responding because they were calling 2 or 3 times a day every time the other would replace the fence. Now they just let them fight amongst themselves since there is very little damage two 79 year old men bickering over a land dispute can actually do. That is unless Ferris breaks out that chainsaw of his, but I doubt he could even lift that thing anymore. Anyway, not much else is going on. Just the same old same old town. We both miss you so much, Jason. It's just not the same without you. But we need you to make something of yourself so we will survive.

Again, I'm so proud of you James and I know your father is too! Don't worry about us! I can't wait for your next letter, sweetie!

We both love you so so so much!

Love, Mom.

Mark had been patiently walking around the area waiting for Ria to finish reading. After a minute he got bored and decided to read over Ria's shoulder. Then he noticed something odd and stole the paper from Ria.

"Hey! I said give me a minute!" Ria said trying to grab the paper back. Mark was now staring at it very intently.

"Huh, and I thought you couldn't learn much from the mementos. Did you see this?" Mark asked pointing to a spot on the letter where the ink had been crossed out and rewritten.

"What do you mean? I thought you didn't care." Ria said in irritation.

"I do when it gives us a clue into their lives. Look See that mark? She crossed something out. Look closely."

Ria did as instructed and looked about midway down the document and noticed that the "good" after "But things are" had a long scratch mark and she could barely make out what was there before.

"R. L. L. E. A. That's all the letters I can see. RLLEA, uuh, oh, it said really great and then she crossed… Oh."

"Looks like she may have been trying to say more than she wrote. She crossed out really great and instead put just good." Mark said trying to decipher the dead woman's intent.

"Well, let's go see who this woman was and what she truly was intending to say." Ria said pulling her own ACE out and pressing the button to transport them to the next memory.


	6. Chapter 5

DISCLAIMER! THIS CHAPTER IS RATED M! This scene i felt was necessary to show the whole idea of how low Ernest's rock bottom was. Also i needed to give justification to the last chapter. Again DISCLAIMER! THIS CHAPTER IS RATED M!

Ch. 5

The two emerged in a small trailer that looked very similar to the trailer they were in in previous memory. Though some key differences were apparent. There was significantly less trash and the whole place looked small, but nice. Patricia was sitting at a small writing desk in a wooden chair writing a letter. Ernest sat in his chair staring at a TV, with a bottle hanging from his hand. Upon closer inspection, she was writing the letter that got them to this memory.

"Huh, we in the same place as before?" Mark asked aloud.

"Don't think so. The bedroom was next to the kitchen before, not the bathroom. See" Ria said pointing to various parts of the house.

"K, but dang their similar. Maybe Ernest did that intentionally?"

"Could be. But I would guess more likely that most trailers look pretty much identical."

"Hmm." Mark said ending the conversation.

They watched Patricia finish writing. She then placed her pen down, scooted her chair out from under the table and stood up. She walked toward the wall with a mirror, glanced at herself, pushed a stray hair behind her ear and turned around to face Ernest.

"So, what would you like to do for supper sweetie?" Patricia inquired. She had a gentle falsetto voice with an inflection that slightly raised the pitch of her voice at the end of each phrase. She sounded kind and friendly.

Ernest did not respond to Patricia's question and continued starting at the TV.

"Would you like Hamburger Helper or Spaghetti? We don't have much else left." Patricia asked ignoring the lack of response.

Ernest still did not give a response.

Patricia was getting visibly frustrated and walked into the kitchen to start working on dinner regardless. She walked into the kitchen, put on her apron and began pulling things out of the fridge and setting them on the counter. Once everything was on the counter she stared at the ingredients for a long time. She looked at them as if searching for an answer. Realizing one would not come she walked back out to where Ernest sat.

"Have you eaten anything today, Ernest?" Patricia asked flatly.

"No." Ernest finally said with a growl. He also still did not look at his wife.

"Have you gotten up from that spot since you woke up this afternoon?"

"No." Ernest replied still refusing to be cordial.

"Are you drunk?" Patricia asked knowing the answer.

Ernest smiled and chuckled slightly.

Patricia's ears became beet red with rage. This had apparently been a final straw.

Patricia took a deep breath and said, "Can we talk?"

"No"

This infuriated Patricia. So Patricia reached down between Ernest and the arm of the chair, grabbed the remote, and turned it off. There was a long silence before anyone said anything.

Patricia started, "I want a divorce."

Ernest only laughed slightly to himself. Otherwise there was no reaction.

"I'm serious Ernest!" Patricia said trying to convey her desire.

Ernest finally responded with more than one word, "I know. That's why it's so funny."

"Ernest, I don't want to do this but I feel like you've given me no choice. I can't keep waiting around for you to pull yourself up and get back on your feet. I have a life I still want to live and I want you to be a part of it but you just don't seem to want to even try. You haven't hardly left that chair in over a year!"

Ernest was not phrased by this, "It's a comfy chair."

Patricia ignored this comment and continued, "But you have a life outside you refuse to go back to. You have a wife, a son, family, a job, friends! Don't you want to go back to that? Don't you want to live again?

There is a long pause before either of the two speak again.

Ernest replied, "What life? Friends who will just give pity to a broken father then call him pathetic behind his back. Friends whose condolences are worthless and empathies are fake and phony. A job that I will never be able to keep any money from since it all will be taken out to pay for that damned treatment and even if I worked till I'm 130 I wouldn't pay that back. And then there's family. What a stupid fucking idea. Mom died when I was 13. Dad left when I was 5. Brother got killed in the war. So what do I have left? All I got is a useless fucking wife and a son who doesn't even care that his little brother is dead."

"He does too care!" Patricia shouted to be heard over Ernest who now was speaking unnecessarily loud.

"HOW!? How does he care!? What does he do to show how much he cares? I'll tell you. By showing up 2 hours too late to see his dying brother, showing an appearance at the funeral, then leaving the night of. Tell me how the hell does someone get over their brother's death in 5 days? 5 DAYS! That's all it fucking took. He gets here just after his brother's death and goes back to school 5 days later!

"ITOLD HIM TO GO BACK!" Patricia shouted through tear strewn eyes.

"…" Ernest was silent.

"I told him to go back to school." Patricia went on trying to talk through repeated sobs.

"….." Ernest still sat in stunned silence.

Patricia continued taking large, snotty breaths every few words, "He wanted to stay for you! He wanted to put college on hold to stay here and take care of us. But I told him no. I told him we would be fine, not to worry, and that he needed to focus on his own life."

"Wh… Why would you do that?" Ernest asked bewildered.

"Because he is our last chance Ernest! Can't you see that? He has a chance to escape this worthless town. To make something of himself. Isn't that worth anything?" Patricia said convincingly.

"Funny." Was Ernest's one word response.

"What?" Patricia asked confused.

Ernest gave an evil chuckle, "Funny. All this time I have been blaming myself for his disloyalty. Like something I did raising him was wrong. When all this time it was YOU who has forgotten about our son."

"Wha…" Patricia tried to say before Ernest's fist collided with her left eye and temple at full force. Instantly breaking something and knocking Patricia flat on her back.

Patricia fell back against the wall shattering a mirror hanging there. She collapsed in a dazed amongst the shattered glassed cutting her arms and legs on the shards scattered on the floor.

Once she came to she blinked twice and looked up at Ernest towering over her.

"Wha… Ernest. You hit.. You hit me… I… I think you broke something….. I need to go… I need to go to the hos.."

"You're gonna stay right here you stupid cunt." Ernest growled gazing down at his wife with an evil smile. He then picked up the liquor bottled next to his chair, downed the last 4 gulps, and smashed the end of the bottle on the wall just above Patricia's head, "Or else!"

"GOD! FUCK! ERNEST PLEASE!" Patricia screamed through pained, terrified eyes.

Ernest began to laugh, "You know what, that's not a bad idea, my dear. Get in the bedroom. It seems you need a reminder of what loyalty truly is."

Patricia mouthed a silent, "Please, no.." but the threatening bottle in his hand remained pointed at the bedroom door.

Mark could no longer stay silent, "GOD! I hate it when there is one of these. I'm muting all sound output." He said pressing a button on his ACE.

Ria had remained nearly unchanged and looked at Mark puzzled, "Aren't you used to this by now? We go into dying people's memories. Everyone has a past, and every past has a rock bottom. Some are worse than others, but we all have them."

Patricia was clearly crying without any sound as she slowly got up holding her eye with one hand. She made her way into the bedroom and Ernest followed. The door slammed shut.

"Are you honestly defending this Ria!? Did you not see what just happened!? The hell is wrong with you?" Mark asked waving his arms emphatically.

"I'm not defending this at all, Mark. Its disgusting, wrong and makes me hate this man even more. However, I have never gone through one of these cases without finding their rock bottoms. But this is one of the worse. I still want to see why he is like this. Because I still think there is a reason. "

Mark just shook his head, "Heh, and here I was saying we shouldn't get involved. I guess I just never got a rape memory. Or at least not the guy we're treating."

"This is my second. I never will forget my first. Not saying it's defendable. But a story always has a beginning, middle and end, and tragedy can strike any of the three." Ria said reminiscently.

"Want to talk about it?" Mark asked cautiously.

"No"

"Alright." Mark said pulling up his ACE to find the next memento.


	7. Chapter 6

Ch. 6

Mark and Ria emerged inside what looked to be a church, but upon closer inspection, was in fact a funeral home. People were lined up around the pews nearly back to the door and few people sat in the pews talking amongst themselves.

"Can we finally get a break with the depressing shit!? My god!" Mark blurted.

"Weren't you the one a few memories back saying maybe I am not ready to be back at this job?" Ria replied.

"Shut up. I don't know why this is getting to me so much. That last memory, I can't stop thinking about it. Honestly, this is going to be really damn hard to give him what he wants in the end."

"It's our job. Maybe you should take some of your own advice and not get so invested." Ria accusingly replied.

"Maybe I should." Mark said thoughtfully, "It's just when you need to take advice the most, that's also when it's the hardest."

Ria replied with merely a nod and walked toward the front of the funeral home. Ernest, Patricia and James all stood in the front next to a casket. In the casket lay a 12 years old boy named Cameron and the casket was closed.

People were filing past the three family members offering their condolences. "I'm so sorry for your loss." "So young. No family deserves this, especially yours. "He fought so hard for so long. Such a shame." "Our prayers are with you."

Patricia and James nodded to each of them in time saying thank you. Ernest did not say anything, as usual.

"God, this is the part I always hate." Ria said sitting in a pew watching the people file past. "The part when you get to see when everything started to fall apart."

"I don't mind it, cause that means hopefully the memories will start getting less depressing and you can forget all that stuff and focus on the wish instead. Besides, I highly doubt most people even want to remember the last half of their lives." Mark said almost conversationally.

"What!? How can you say that, Mark!? Most people have their best memories later in life!" Ria refuted.

"Really Ria?" Mark condescended. "Has that been your experience with this job? If so then, wow, you're lucky. All I know is every single one of the jobs I am on we completely scrap the second half of their memories and no one has ever complained or made a fuss. In fact, I'd argue that most were happier because we only showed them what they were nostalgic for."

"But what they want when their dying is not the same as what they cherish in life. Of course they're going to be nostalgic on their deathbed. Everyone is. But the years before that are filled with memories of family, grandchildren, community, conversations and so much more that make them worth everything. You are wrong, Mark. I know you are entitled to your opinion, but you are so wrong." Ria flatly stated.

Mark raised his eyebrows in mild shock, "Wow, Ria. Standing up for what you believe in? Good for you. I won't try to argue with you. We will just have to agree to disagree. "

"This is true. But I get the feeling that part of the reason you think that way is because you've seen so many examples of what you believe. Because think about it Mark, why would someone who is happy with how their life turned out agree to erase all those memories for one final wish? Probably because what is being erased, isn't important to them to begin with."

Mark did not respond immediately but eventually replied, " Hmm, that's one way to look at it. But you're forgetting one very crucial thing about everyone's later years."

Ria was genuinely curious, "Really what's that?"

"No one's life is better when they outlive the ones they love." Mark said somberly.

Ria had no response.

Instead the two went silent and began watching the scene before them again. While they were talking most had filed through the room and now only a few stragglers remained giving their sympathies to the family.

"Thank you so much for coming. I know it's a drive for you Uncle Chuck and Aunt Ruthie." Patricia said hugging an elderly couple.

"It's no trouble at all. We had to come." Uncle Chuck replied.

"We wouldn't miss it for the world, dear." Aunt Ruthie added.

"Still, it means so much to me that you are here. Thank you again!" Patricia continued.

They talked with the stragglers for a few minutes then when they all left the three of them stood over the casket looking down. James had tears falling down his cheeks. Patricia looked numb to emotions after greeting everyone. Ernest still looked dazed and silent.

"Well, we have to let them come in and take him to the graveyard. Come on, James." Patricia said patting her son on the shoulder.

"Can I look at him one last time, Ma? Please? I know it's not pretty but I have to see him one more time." James said through sniffles.

Patricia was reluctant, but the look in James eyes convinced her otherwise. She nodded, then James moved the flowers from the top half of the casket. He unlocked the lock and pushed the casket up. Cameron sat in the white linen bed of the casket. His face was covered in burn scars that had been somewhat covered by make up. His lips and eyes were sewn shut. He was in a very nice light blue 3-piece suit and tie. His hands were folded across his stomach. They were also covered in burn scars.

James looked for 10 seconds then embraced his mom crying uncontrollably. She comforted her son as much as she could, holding her own tears back. Ernest finally moved.

He stood up and looked down at his deceased son. His lip began to quiver and tears started forming in his eyes, "I… Coul…. Kee….. P… Mise." He mumbled out incoherently.

"What was that dad?" James asked .

"I couldn't keep my promise!" Ernest shouted and then began to sob uncontrollably.

Ernest then grabbed his dead son and pulled him into his chest as he sobbed, "I couldn't do it! I promised you I would and I didn't. You only wanted one thing and I just couldn't figure out how to get you there. I'm so sorry, Cameron. I am such a failure of a father. I'm such a failure of a man. I'm such a miserable fucking failure!"

James and Patricia quickly wrapped their arms around Ernest and sobbed with him. James was the first to speak, "I'm still here, dad! I'm still here. You don't need to worry about anything."

"Sweetie, you still have a son and a wife who love you. And we always will. It's ok. You still have us!" Patricia added trying to calm her hysterical husband.

Ernest then breaks his gaze away from Cameron and allows himself to be enveloped by the embrace. "I just can't believe he's gone. He's too young. This can't happen to someone this young."

"It shouldn't. It's horrible. But we can't bring him back dear. We did all we could." Patricia said tears glossed over her eyes.

"He's better now dad. He isn't in pain anymore." James said trying to calm his father.

Ernest looked at his son, then to his wife, then brought them to his chest in a huge bear hug, "I love you both so much. You mean everything to me. I don't know how I could live without you. I never want you to leave."

"And we wont." Patricia added.

"Yeah. We are here for you, dad. Always." James said.

"Thank you so much. I love you both more than anything in this world." Ernest replied and finally released his embrace.

The three of them took one last look at Cameron, then shut the casket. They then went out into the lobby area and Ernest began talking to the few stragglers that were left. Apparently he had not been able to speak the whole visitation and now was thanking everyone for their sympathy. While this was going on Patricia pulled James over to the side.

"James, could you come here for a moment? I have a favor to ask of you." Patricia said pulling on James' arm.

"Sure mom. Whats up?" James asked.

Patricia took a deep breath, then looked at her son as if she were about to tell him something direly important, "Okay, sweetie. This is going to sound absolutely absurd, and I know that, but I need you to go back to school."

James stood dumbstruck for a few seconds then replied, "What?"

"Tonight!" Patricia flatly responded.

"No way! Why!? What the hell, mom? I can't leave. Look at dad!" He said gesturing over to Ernest.

Patricia had tears in her eyes now, "Sweetie, please. I know this sounds crazy. It probably is. But I need you to do this. I haven't been able to tell you but there is no possible way your father can pay for Cameron's treatment. They don't take back the bill just because something doesn't work. He won't admit it but I've looked through our finances and there isn't any possible way we could ever pay all of this back even if we both worked till we're 90! So there is only one chance we have at ever getting out of debt. That's you! So we can't afford for you to miss any more. Harvard doesn't allow make up days."

James stood in shock, "What the? Are you serious!? No way! There is just no way! What about all that dad had saved up for his retirement?"

Patricia sadly shook her head, "Spent all of it on his treatment in less than a month. He was in the hospital for three. Plus that treatment at the end was more than all of the rest combined. It's just not possible, sweetie. I'm sorry."

James realized the severity of his mother's words and now his disbelief had turned to pleas, "But, but, but… What about dad? He just lost his son, mom. He needs us. He needs us now more than any other time. Please don't make me go away now. We need to be with him."

This was what finally broke Patricia once again, she hugged her son in a vice grip embrace, "I know. I know we need to be with him. There is so much that we need right now. We need money. We need time. We need acceptance. We need understanding. We need our son back…. But if wants and needs were money, we'd all be millionaires."

She took a large breath, swallowed as many tears as she could and continued, "But they're not and we aren't. So instead we have to deal with the world before us. And I will not let one of my son's death be the reason the other never has a successful life!"

James was beginning to get hysterical, "But they have to let me make up any tests I miss. I'm sure the honors society could work something out so I can keep my scholarship. They have to!

Patricia now was getting to become hysterical, "I was on the phone with them for 3 hours yesterday. If it were anything but an Ivy league school they could but there are no exceptions. I'm so so sorry son, I know it's more than anyone should be asked to do.

"But… But… I want to be with my daddy." James said his eyes weeping.

"You're daddy will understand, James." Patricia said hanging her head. "Now please. You need to get back to school."

James gave his mother one final hug, and walked away.

"Woah…" Was all Mark could say.

"Ditto." Ria replied.

"That was so unexpected. Come on, there is no way that a school would be that strict that they wouldn't let one of their students bury their father." Mark said in disbelief.

Ria was about to agree with Mark, but then she saw the calendar on the wall. It was one of those pull away calendars that only shows one date. It was December 10. "Wait, Mark. Look at the date. It's probably finals week, and I bet most schools, especially Harvard, would be very wary of allowing students to retake finals. So, that's probably why it was so dire."

"Still, that's a lot to heap on a kid especially right after his brother dies. See, this is an example of what I was saying about the latter half of life."

Ria then had a thought and refuted, "But from what we've seen it looks like James has had an extremely successful latter half. What say you to that?"

Mark acted almost as if he expected the question, and quipped a reply, "And I bet he would trade it all away for one more day with his little brother."

Ria did not know how to respond to that. Mark took out his ACE and scanned the room for the next memento. A small children's book that was leaning on one of the wreaths of flowers began to glow. The book was entitled The Big Wide Blue.

Mark reached down and picked up the book and scanned it. Ria stood looking at Mark with a curious look. As if she was trying to decipher his inner secrets.

"What happened, Mark?" Ria flatly said.

"Huh? What do you mean?" He replied pausing his scan.

"What happened to make you so cynical about people. Not everyone who does this job has such a hopeless outlook. Sure, not all of us are optimist, but you seem hell bent on thinking that people only get to live until something tragic happens and then what? They just drift through life? That's such BS!"

Mark did not become defensive, but instead just smiled, "There you go. Keep thinking that way! I mean that Ria, never let cynics like me stop you from believing in the hope of this world. I guess it's hard to remember the good times after you hit rock bottom."

"So what happened?" Ria said preventing him from avoiding the question.

"Parents died. Got addicted to pills for 2 years. Almost died. Came back. Got my life together and got this job. Don't want to say anything else. Okay?" Mark spat each phrase with curt virility.

Ria was shocked at how abruptly he discussed his past. She agreed to not press any further, "Sorry Mark. I didn't know. I…"

Mark cut her off and said, "I don't want your sympathy, empathy, compassion or understanding. It happened a long time ago, that part of my life is over. Let's just move on. It's all I've ever tried to do."

"Okay." Ria responded. Then Mark finished the scan of the book and the two were teleported into the next memory.


	8. Chapter 7

Ch. 7

Ria and Mark emerged in a hospital room. Ernest was at the side of a hospital bed where a young boy, about 12, lay talking to him. Tubes were attached to his chest, arms and legs. Though other than that, he looked fairly healthy. No noticeable scars. Patricia sat in the corner reading a book.

Ria wasn't sure if she should say something or not. She chose to stay silent. Mark was the first to speak up. "Don't dwell on it too much Ria. I sure as hell don't. Let's just go back to figuring out this guy's life and leave mine alone.

"Sure thing." Ria replied.

Fairly healthy may be a little bit of a stretch to say. While no scars were visible, his skin was not looking the best. It was a shade or two paler than most and peaky. His eyes were still bright but the bags underneath showed how exhausted he truly was. The tubes all around him restricted his movement to only his arms and head. It's hard to look any semblance of healthy with tubes coming out one's body.

"Dad, can we read a book again?" Cameron asked sleepily.

"But you've already read three. We've been reading for over an hour! You need to get your rest, son." Ernest said petting his sons head. It was completely bald.

"I know. But I'm not tired yet. Just one more." Cameron said fighting back a yawn, then leaning against his dad's arm looking up at him.

Ernest could never deny his son when he got like this. That sleepy, whiny, needy, time just before they collapse was the absolute best part of being a parent according to Ernest. Ernest let out a sigh and replied, "Fine, which one?"

"The Big Wide Blue." Cameron said as he cuddled up to his dad more.

"Didn't we read that last night?" Ernest asked knowing the answer.

"Yep, and the night before, and the night before." Cameron said matter-o-factly.

"But that book is for little kids. Don't you want to read something more for your age?" Ernest said knowing the answer.

"Little kids and big kids can like the same things. It's my favorite, what can I say?"

"Alright." Ernest said as he reached over to where Patricia sat and picked up a large book. "Well if its your favorite. How can I say no? Here we go…

The Big Wide Blue. Oh, hello! It's you. Have you ever seen the big wide blue? You haven't? Well then I should tell you. The Big Wide Blue you see, is also called the ocean, the bay, the tides and the sea. And in the sea there are fish and mammals and coral and reefs. Mollusks and crabs and shrimp and krill galore. Eels, whales, sharks and beaches, seals, narwhals, and so much more. All the creatures live in the sea happily getting along with each other. There are families everywhere living free, with mommies, daddies, sisters and brothers. We hope someday you will join the fun, and swim the Big Wide Blue so freely, But until then we will wait in your dreams, till one day you can see the sea."

By the time Ernest finished the story Cameron was fast asleep. Ernest peeled his son off his arm and adjusted him comfortably in the bed. He then got up, walked over to the corner, and sat down next to his wife. She laid her head on his shoulder affectionately.

"Good to know he still hasn't changed." Patricia said watching her son.

"Yeah, kid never wants to sleep even when its in the process of taking him." Ernest replied with a chuckle.

"He's always been that way. Think he's going to be alright? He was pretty tired today." Patricia said worriedly

"I'm sure he's fine. They just started that new drug on him yesterday. Maybe it's a side effect. I wouldn't worry about it too much."

"Like that ever stopped me before." Patricia quipped back.

"Well, at least try."

"I always do." Patricia said. She then readjusted herself to be lying on the couch with her head in Ernest's lap looking up.

"I never get tired of looking at you. You know that?" Ernest said pushing Patricia's hair behind her ear.

She chuckled and nuzzled Ernest's stomach in response, "I know. You tell me everyday."

"Well it's true."

Patricia smiled and shook her head, "You're ridiculous." She then sat up and wrapped her arms around Ernest's neck and planted a passionate kiss on his lips. "And I wouldn't have it any other way."

"Good, cause I don't plan on changing." Ernest said as Patricia laid back in his lap.

They silent for a moment, enjoying each other's presence. Then Patricia spoke up. "I'm glad he fell asleep easier tonight."

"I kinda expected him to fight us since he's excited for James to get here tomorrow. I guess he was just really tired."

"Hmm." She replied absently. "Hope he sleeps through the night and doesn't get sick again."

Ernest thought for a second, "I'm thinking that was just something he ate."

"You mean hoping, not thinking."

Ernest laughed, "Do you blame me?" Then kissed his wife's forehead affectionately.

Patricia smiled at the kiss. "No. I am too." She then was quiet in thought. "Do you really think they can cure him?" She asked suddenly serious.

Ernest gazed down at his wife with somber assurance, "I don't think, I know."

"You mean you hope." She rolled her eyes at her husband.

"No, I know. Or at least I am living with the belief that I know. Cause the alternative isn't an option. He needs us to believe he will get better. So I'm sure of it." Ernest said defiantly.

Patricia smiled and snuggled into her husband's lap even more, "I love how sure you are of everything. It's wonderful having a perpetual optimist around. Even if it is a false hope."

"Don't go saying that!" Ernest protested. "You of all people should know how true my hope is. I'm the lucky one, remember?"

"But he's been here three weeks this time, dear. Before he was never here more than a week." Patricia continued.

"But they're narrowing solutions. It's only a matter of time before they find the right one. I know they will."

"Luck always runs out, sweetie." Patricia replied.

"Well it's a good thing I am an optimist, cause without me you'd be a constant cloud of doom and gloom." Ernest replied and then kissed his wife's forehead. "But really, just think for a moment. We have always been lucky. Whether it be with jobs, kids, money or just everyday things. Hell we've been lucky ever since we started dating. Remember the concert in Chicago when we first started seeing each other?"

"Yes, but what does that have to do with anything?" Patricia asked confused by the change of subject.

"I was lucky then too. They were sold out at the Box Office."

Patricia shot up in surprise, "What! What do you mean? You never mentioned this! Did you steal them!?"

"Nothing quite so dramatic I'm afraid." Ernest replied calming his wife. "Well you see they were sold out of the concert tickets when I got to the booth. I know I should have listened to you and ordered them ahead of time, but I didn't. Then when I went to 'convince' them to sell me a ticket anyway, they told me to buzz off. So I was on my way back to you to tell you we were out of luck. I honestly was dreading you dumping me cause I couldn't get the tickets, when I ran into a couple talking on the phone. They seemed upset. Then once they got off the phone they began talking very fast and then one of them spotted me. They asked if I was going to the concert and I told them they were sold out. Then they offered to sell me theirs since they had a sudden family emergency and I bought them without a second thought."

Patricia sat up and stared at Ernest with a disbelieving smile, "You've got to be kidding me, seriously?"

"Yep, just got lucky."

"You always are." She said before kissing him for a very long time. "So ever find out what their emergency was?"

"Nope." Ernest said, "Probably a death in the family would be my guess. Either way it was good for us."

"That was our third date right?" Patricia inquired

"Fourth I think." Ernest responded.

"Seems like such a long time ago." Patricia replied looking toward the hospital window longingly.

"It was." Ernest flatly said with a smile.

"Are you calling me old?" Patricia asked accusingly.

"If I am then I'm calling myself ancient."

They both let out a small chuckle, then sat holding one another for a long time. The room felt heavy with thought.

"Ernest. I'm scared." Patricia said with sudden honesty.

"I know babe, I know. But he will be ok." He replied trying to assure her.

"It's not just him I'm worried about. What about us? What about after this? How are we going to pay for this?" Patricia asked Ernest with fear in her eyes.

"Ah, well. I was just thinking about that today." Ernest said with a surprising spring in his voice. "So, I did some calculations and if I start 50 or 60 hour weeks that will bring in about two or three thousand more a month. With that we should be able to cover the payments and still have enough to live on. That should be enough to cover it. Not quickly, and not easily. But it will be alright in the end."

"Are you sure?" Patricia replied unbelieving. "Aren't we up to $500,000 now? That will take years!"

"Decades." Ernest corrected. "But we will have our son. I wouldn't care if I had to work till I die. We will still have our son. No amount of money can even come close to equaling that."

Patricia gazed into the eyes of her husband consumed by love. She took his head in her hands, sniffed back loving tears and kissed him with all of the force she could muster. A true kiss. A passionate kiss. A hopeful kiss.

"You're right. What was I thinking? We've always made it work and we will do it again. I love you, Ernest. I always will." Patricia said an inch away from his face.

"I love you too, Pat." Ernest replied and kissed his wife once more.

"I'm sorry I worry so much. It must be exhausting keeping me together." Patricia said jokingly.

"I see it more as exciting than exhausting. And I wouldn't have it any other way, my dear." Ernest replied with a smile and kissed her forehead once more.

The couple then sat quietly with one another not saying anything. Merely enjoying the other's company. Mark and Ria had been silent so far watching. Ria was the first to speak up.

"Well, I will say this is somewhat unexpected. He seems like a completely different person." Ria analyzed.

"Not that surprising to me. Everyone is generally a good person until something happens. Then you get to find out what people are truly made of." Mark said knowingly.

"I guess you would know." Ria said without a thought, then realized what she said. "I'm sorry Mark. That was uncalled for. Please forgive me."

"Don't worry about it. It's true isn't it?" Mark said without any animosity.

"Well, yeah. I guess. It's just, I always have trouble remembering that there are years, possibly decades between these memories and we don't get to see everything. It's not fair to judge people based on the few snapshots of their life you get to see." Ria thoughtfully replied.

"We do anyway though. It's human nature. We all want to compare ourselves to one another."

Ria quipped back, "But that isn't necessarily judging people. You can compare yourselves to others. It's when you start thinking that you are better than others that it turns into judgement. Comparing yourself to others keeps us tied together as one race. Judging one another serves only to divide us further."

"I guess so. But try convincing a judgmental person that they aren't any better than anyone else and you're gonna have a bad time." Mark said thinking of a specific memory.

"I only have advice. Not strategies." Ria replied. "Anyway, did you ever see what the date is? I'm curious how much further back we went."

Mark searched the room for a calendar, but couldn't find one. He did however see that the current date was printed on Cameron's clipboard hanging from his hospital room door. Mark walked over to the door and picked up the clipboard.

"What the hell!? There's no way!" Mark said in disbelief staring at the clipboard.

"What!? What is it?" Ria asked.

"It says here its November 28. The funeral was on December 1." Mark said still in shock.

"Let me see that!" Ria said snatching the clipboard from Mark. She looked very closely at the text, "But there's no way. They both look 10 or 20 years younger."

Just then a sequence of beeps and flashes started emitting from all the machines surrounding Cameron. Ernest and Patricia bolted upright and began searching for an answer to what was happening. Fear growing rapidly in their eyes.

"I think this memory still has a long way to go, Ria." Mark said with somber seriousness.

All of a sudden and team of 10 or 15 nurses, doctors and anesthesiologists flooded the room and started taking readings of the machines shouting frantically. They were injecting him with different needles, fluids and pain relievers. Cameron remained unconscious.

"What is happening!? What are you doing to my son?" Ernest pleaded the doctors.

"What's going on? He was just fine! What happened!?" Patricia said as tears began filling her eyes.

A doctor had emerged behind the couple and beckoned to them, "Excuse me. My name is Doctor Sheffle. Would you please join me in the hall?"

Ernest turned quickly to the doctor and started demanding answers, "What is wrong with him? Why are all these machines beeping. What are they doing to him? Who are all of these people?"

Doctor Sheffle put up his arms in defense, "Please, please calm down. I can't answer unless you give me a chance. And they can't work effectively unless we leave the room. I will answer any questions I can but you have to please, join me in the hall." He said as he gestured towards the door.

Patricia and Ernest obeyed and sat on a hard wooden bench outside the door. Doctor Sheffle stood over them. Ernest was the first to speak.

"Tell me what's going on, please.

The doctor took a deep breath and replied, "Your son's vitals have dropped suddenly. The team in his room is doing all they can to save him. His oxygen and white blood cell count dropped 89 points over the course of a minute. This most likely was due to some form of restriction to the bloodflow and that in turn compromised his immune system and caused the white blood cell drop."

"English doc. Please." Patricia said confused.

The doctor thought for a moment on how to explain this simply. "Well. Let's see. The tumor around his heart seems to have been damaged and as such has swollen twice as big as it was. That has caused a blockage in the primary artery going into the heart preventing it from doing its job of bringing oxygen to the rest of the body. The damage may have been caused by his transfer yesterday, any of the meds he is on or anything. We are still not sure. I apologize."

Ernest and Patricia were hanging on every word the doctor spoke, yet still did not understand the meaning. "So what does that mean? Is he going to be alright?" Patricia finally asked.

The doctor closed his eyes and sadly said, "The tumor is now too big to be treated. It will probably keep draining all night, and if his heart can't pump any blood on its own… He won't last the night."

Those last five words echoed in the minds of Ernest and Patricia like a cavern. They could not believe what was happening. Patricia collapsed and covered her face to hide her instant tears. Ernest clenched his fists, bit his lip, and turned around to face the doctor.

"Please, please no. There has to be something you can do. He was fine today. Just tired is all." The nearly broken father begged.

"I think you should call any family that is near." The doctor said hanging his head in sympathy.

Ernest then joined his wife sobbing on the floor. The two of them held one another tightly, clinging to anything within their grasp for hope. A fool's hope.

"This can't be happening!" Ernest protested, "This is impossible. James isn't even here yet. This isn't happening. Please let this not be happening!"

Ernest desperately wished for any God, entity or destiny to pull him from this real-life nightmare. None heeded his call. He then began to punch himself repeatedly in the temple with full force.

"Ernest! Sweetie stop!" Patricia pleaded grabbing his arms.

Ernest broke free and stood up facing the doctor. "Please! Anything! Is there anything you can do? Anything you can try? Non-market drugs? Experimental treatments? Homeopathy? Home remedies? Incantation? ANYTHING!?"

The doctor was backing away from Ernest and putting his hands up defensively. When he realized Ernest was not going to attack him, he put down his hands and brushed off his scrubs nervously. He then looked Ernest up and down for a long moment before replying, "Well…"

"Well what?" Ernest asked allowing himself the glimmer of hope.

"Well…" the doctor began. "I had a colleague in school who did a study on heart tumors in children. And he discovered there has been an extremely small success rate in a treatment called Great Radiation Wave Elimination Ultraviolet Treatment, where a patient is put through multiple X-Ray, Gamma-Ray, Microwave and Ultraviolet wave treatments in hopes of disintegrating all pieces of the tumor. But this treatment is more commonly known as, The Gauntlet."

"Why are you just telling us about this now!?" Ernest said incredulously. "Let's do it! Anything is worth a shot!"

"Let me finish explaining." The doctor continued. "This treatment barely has any cases for an accurate statistic and the only ones that do exist have only a five percent survivability rate. The reason there are not many to compare to is due to this being one of the most expensive treatments hospitals offer."

"How much?" Ernest grimly asked.

"$3,000,000" The doctor flatly replied, "And again, five percent survivability rate."

Ernest looked down at his grieving wife. She looked up at him. With tears in her and a look of pure sorrow, she gently shook her head while silently mouthing, "no…"

Ernest also shook his head in silent response, then made a gasping breath through tears and whispered, "I've always been lucky."

"Where do I sign?" Ernest said as he turned to face the doctor.

"Are you sure?" The doctor cautiously inquired.

"Where. Do. I. Sign!?" Ernest replied with assured credence.

The doctor nodded and went off to find the papers.

Patricia was staring at her husband in disbelief. "Ernest! What are you doing!? Weren't you listening? Five Percent! Three million dollars! We can't afford that and it's such a risk! Why!?"

Ernest turned to his wife with a clueless smile, "Come on, Pat! There's a chance! That's all we need. We'll find some way to make it work! Trust me! Trust me like you always have!"

Patricia looked up at her husband struggling so hard to accept his hope. She eventually succumbed and replied, "Ok, Ernie. Ok."

The two of them signed the papers and watched the doctors wheel Cameron's lifeless body to the first round of the gauntlet. There was then a sudden flash of white light that enveloped the entire area and transformed the scene to another hospital room.

Ernest and Patricia were sobbing on a couch while a doctor stood nearby. Cameron lay in the bed in the center of the room. A sheet had been pulled over his face to hide his corpse.

"What the hell just happened!?" Mark said suddenly looking around.

"Selective memory block. I've seen it a few times." Ria informed. "It's what happens when someone witnesses something so traumatizing or horrific that they must completely remove any memory of the instance in order to live. I guess he couldn't live with the memory of watching his son go through the gauntlet."

"That can happen!? Did they teach us that in training? Cause I'm sure I would have remembered something like that!"

Ria continued explaining, "It was mentioned briefly, but its so rare it's usually not worth focusing on."

They stopped their conversation to finish watching the memory. Patricia was sobbing into Ernest's shoulder while holding him close. Ernest merely sat with a thousand yard stare, mouth agape.

"Ernest." Patricia squeaked through crying, "Please say something. Please! Anything!"

He did not respond.

"Sir, I'm so sorry but we need to remove the body soon. Please, we need your permission to do so." The doctor in the room gently tried to persuade. "Sir?"

This did not merit a response from Ernest, but he did stand up.

"Ernest? Ernest, what are you doing?" Patricia cautiously asked.

He did not acknowledge his wife's question and continued walking toward the bed.

Patricia now pleaded, "Ernest, Ernest please stop! You're scaring me!"

Once he got to the bed, he stood staring for a few seconds. He then grabbed the sheet and yanked it away from his face. It was no longer recognizable from all the scars left from the burning of the treatment. Ernest no longer could be numb to the situation. He allowed all of his emotions to flood him at once.

"I killed him. I killed my own son."

He then sobbed the way only a father who has come to the realization that he will never see his baby boy again can sob.


End file.
